


They're the only things I have

by MultiFandomAngst



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst?, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Hale Fire, Non-cannon compliant, Scott is beautiful, Scott still gets bit tho, Stiles is awesome and full of mystery, Suicide mention, Talia is a BAMF, The Hale Family lives, its now also a kidfic, plots of death, trust me - Freeform, will have a good ending!, will update tags as I post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiFandomAngst/pseuds/MultiFandomAngst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all honesty, there was multiple reasons for why Stiles was in this situation.<br/>1, He had just visited the grave of his parents for the first time in over thirteen years and was now walking alone on the edge of the trees to his jeep.<br/>2, Returning to Beacon Hills left him with the vague feeling that he was drowning and being strangled simultaneously.<br/>3, In his post-crying state, he knew he was more vulnerable to attacks, (should the two werewolves that he and Scott were tracking attempt to make an appearance) and overcompensated.<br/>Finally, he reacted on instinct, drawing and firing his gun mere seconds after recognizing what could only be a werewolf charging straight at him. <br/>Even as the werewolf went down, Stiles knew he had just made a colossal mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, here is another fic that I have had the idea of for forever and never actually gotten around to writing it.   
> I am making no profit off of this, nor do I claim the Teen Wolf show, or characters as my own. I am simply using them in the way they were intended, as my entertainment.  
> This will be multichaptered, but yet as I cannot predict the future, I do not know if I can update regularly. And they will probably be large chapters anyway, know that I am writing them as fast as my brain will allow!  
> I will be updating tags as I post, and will give extra info in the end notes, so please watch for anything that could trigger you!  
> UnBeta'd!! All mistakes are mine.  
> I hope you enjoy it!!

In all honesty, there was multiple reasons for why Stiles was in this situation.  
1, He had just visited the grave of his parents for the first time in over thirteen years and was now walking alone on the edge of the trees to his jeep.  
2, Returning to Beacon Hills left him with the vague feeling that he was drowning and being strangled simultaneously.  
3, In his post-crying state, he knew he was more vulnerable to attacks, (should the two werewolves that he and Scott were tracking attempt to make an appearance) and overcompensated.  
Finally, he reacted on instinct drawing and firing his gun mere seconds after recognizing what could only be a werewolf charging straight at him.   
Even as the werewolf went down, Stiles knew he had just made a colossal mistake.   
Strategically walking forward, Stiles made sure the now human-faced werewolf was out cold before holstering his gun.   
The man looked absolutely nothing like the photo of the twins he and Scott were given; this man was as tall as Stiles, hair jet black, and wearing a leather jacket. If Stiles hadn't just knocked him cold with his special wolfsbane bullets, his heart would be pitter pattering for the sheer beauty of the man before him. Those cheekbones could probably cut _diamonds_.   
As it was, Stiles immediately dropped to his knees, muttering a mixture of 'oh fucks' and 'god dammits', while tearing open the man's shirt to examine his very nicely sculpted, yet bloody, abdomen. Thankfully the bullet hadn't hit anything major enough to cause him to bleed out before Stiles could remove the bullet and apply the antidote, a fact that Stiles was thankful for.   
It was going to be hard enough trying to explain to the guy why he shot him when he woke up, let alone have him know that he was very close to actually dying.   
Just as Stiles was reaching around to grab the pouch that held the antidote in his back pocket, a blur lifted him by the throat and slammed him into a tree. The hand clenched tight, cutting off his breathing while claws dug into his skin, and Stiles could feel the warmth of his blood flowing down his neck.   
   "What did you do to my brother?" A voice snarled.   
Both of Stiles' hands were trying to pry the grip off his throat, his head being pushed into the rough bark of the tree, so he gasped pitifully until the grip slackened barely enough to allow him to wheeze.   
   "Wolfsbane . . . bullet . . . sedative . . . can fix . . . please . . " Stiles gasped, his lungs burning.   
The hand that was crushing his windpipe was relaxed enough to drop a gasping Stiles down onto his feet while the claws were then placed threateningly at his jugular.  
   "I'm not a hunter," he panted, "I'm not. He's only been sedated with the wolfsbane. I can wake him up. He won't die as long as I can heal him. Take my gun, anything."   
With a snarl the werewolf pressed their claws in deeper for a fraction of a second before they removed it to tear his gun away and throw it to the side.  
   "Wake him up," They ordered, stepping back and letting Stiles look at them for the first time.   
Coughing slightly, Stiles knew the long black haired, ferociously pissed off werewolf was probably only keeping him alive to save the other one.   
Stiles nodded regardless, pressing a hand to his bleeding throat and stumbling over to the male, pulling out the cloth bag of everything he'd need from his pocket.   
   "There's only enough wolfsbane to let the sedative take over, he'll be fine in a second."  
Using the tweezers to dig the bullet out of the blackened hole, Stiles ignored the squelching sounds, too used to doing this for the pack. The pressure of an enraged werewolf behind him, though, was amazingly new.   
Pinching a bit of wolfsbane into his palm and muttering a quick protective spell, Stiles lit the leaves with another spell and let them burn in his hand, feeling no effects at all.   
He did, however, hesitate right before applying it to the bleeding hole, looking up at her, "Promise me you won't kill me until you've heard my story, alright? Just hear me out."   
She growled, showing off her elongated canines, "Fine. But that doesn't guarantee I still won't kill you."   
Without another second passing, Stiles applied the burnt remedy, "That's fair."   
Stiles watched as the blackened veins disappeared, making sure that everything went smoothly as to not seem like he was going back on their agreement.   
The man groaned, a hand coming up to press against where the bullet entered, Stiles' sign to move in case he tried to take a swipe.  
   "You're going to feel dizzy, but that should pass fairly quickly. Don't sit up too fast, you might throw up," Stiles advised, wiping his bloody hands off on his pants.   
The girl was instantly by his side, out of beta shift, leaning down and whispering in his ear, taking care not to put her back to Stiles.   
As if he was going to do anything, Stiles rolled his eyes, these two were obviously not alphas, so chances were, the leader of their pack was not going to be far. Even if he did manage to get away, an infinite possible number of others could descend on him in the time it took to howl.   
   "I really am sorry," Stiles said earnestly, watching her help him sit up, "You startled me. At a ...very vulnerable moment."   
   "Who the hell are you?" the wolf faced man growled, which really would have been scarier if Stiles wasn't wondering where his eyebrows went. Did Scott's disappear when he shifted?   
   "My name is Stiles. I'm here tracking two rouge werewolves with my partner. We didn't know there were werewolves already here."   
   "This land has belonged to the Hales for generations, how could you not know?" the girl demanded.   
   "Look, I just do as I'm told, alright?" Stiles said defensively, as bells were going off in his head. Hales, hales, where had he heard that before? "I work for the alpha pack, tracking down rouges and they normally tell us when we are going into other's territories. I would have met with the alpha, had I known."   
The male Hale stood slowly, stalking over to Stiles and flashing his eyes blue, probably listening to his heartbeat and other creepy werewolfy things they do to tell if someone is lying.  
   "He's telling the truth," he finally said, tilting his head to make it clear he was speaking to her.   
   "Let's take him to mom. She'll know what to do with him," she decided.   
Stiles nodded quickly in agreement, knowing he had some serious explaining and maybe begging ahead of him to keep him and Scott safe from the mess Deucalion had sent them into.   
   "Can I get my gun? I'll unload it and everything, what if a kid finds it? We can't just leave it here."   
With an angry sigh, Hale nodded and Stiles only had to look around for a moment before he spotted it under some leaves. He made sure they could both see him dismantle it and remove the bullets, returning it to his holster.   
As they began walking, they both stood on either side of him as if they expected him to bolt, which Stiles had to wonder what they would do if they knew he could probably outrun them. He's had enough training that he can nearly keep up with Scott, who's an alpha, so outrunning these two, (while not easy) is possible. However running would ruin any chance he had to meet the alpha on better terms.   
While they walked in silence, Stiles' mind was racing, trying to figure out why the name Hale was so familiar. It wasn't anything he had heard from his interactions with the alpha pack, maybe in an old beastiary? She said they had this land for generations, possibly an old blood pack? With all the research Stiles has done over his life, it was nearly impossible to be certain if that was where he heard it. Still, the name nagged at him, the answer just out of his reach.   
They had been walking in an awkward silence for nearly twenty minutes when the girl suddenly ran ahead, most likely to inform the alpha of their arrival, and Stiles' error.   
Within a few minutes the trees thinned to reveal a beautiful two story house, with a gorgeous wrap around porch, and what looked to be antique woodwork.   
If that sight didn't take Stiles' breath away, the sight of all the people glaring at him did.   
Stiles counted at least seven adults, four teenagers, and by the sight of the toys in the yard, there was also children.   
All quite possibly werewolves. All extremely pissed.   
   "A fully established pack," Stiles muttered, eyes wide as he watched the man join the others, many touching him in an act of reassurance, "Holy shit."   
A beautiful woman came down the steps, power and anger evident in every step she took. There was no mistaking, this woman was the alpha and she was not happy.   
Looking into her read eyes, Stiles only held the contact for a short moment before dropping his eyes to her cheek, making it clear that he was not challenging her, or being completely submissive.   
   "You shot my son." Her voice was hardened, almost cruel.   
Stiles dared to look up again and was pleased that her eyes were normal. "I also healed him," Stiles stated, knowing that they could hear his racing heart.   
   "Who are you?"   
   "My name is Stiles Stilinski, and I have a partner named Scott McCall. We're here on orders of the alpha pack to capture two rouge werewolves who have gone feral. We had no idea and were not told that there was a such large pack already existing here. We would have asked permission to be in your territory. I truly am sorry."   
   "Where is your partner?"   
   "He's at the motel taking a nap. The one off twentieth. I was just going back there from the cemetery."   
Her eye's narrowed for a second, then she raised an eyebrow, "You were the sheriff's boy."   
Stiles' eyes widened as everything suddenly clicked into place, "Talia Hale." he said slowly, remembering his dad talking about the Hale family while they ate dinner, "That's right. That's how I know you. The big family living at the top of the hill. Who would have known you'd be werewolves. I guess Stilinski isn't that common of a name, huh?"   
Stiles scratched his head nervously, knowing that now everyone either knew or were now remembering what happened to his family. Their name had been in the papers for weeks. It wasn't every day that the sheriff lost his wife to a rare cancer, then two days later have his house robbed and be shot dead in front of his ten year old son.   
   "Why would the alpha pack," another guy, maybe in his mid thirties, with the same super model good looks as the rest of them, began, "work with a scrawny human to hunt down feral werewolves?"   
Ignoring the urge to point out that he was wrong on the human part, Stiles clarified with a bit of annoyance, "Work for. I don't work with them. This isn't a willing bargain; I do some legwork for you, you turn your head or give me favors. Its; if you aren't useful to us, we will kill your entire pack."   
When no one said anything, Stiles continued, angered by the looks he was getting, "Look, I'm really sorry about this whole mess, I am. But please don't think that I am doing this of my own free will. And I do my research, alright? I make sure every single supernatural entity we take down has broken the code. We don't even kill them, we hand them over to the Alpha pack. I'm twenty-three years old, I don't want to spend my life worrying about whether or not they will keep their word. I want to live and not be hunted just like you."   
The silence that followed Stiles' rant wasn't broken until his phone started ringing in his pocket, the Spongebob Squarepants F.U.N song telling him that it was Scott calling.   
   "This is Scott, do you mind if I get this?"  
Talia shook her head, so Stiles answered it on speakerphone, knowing it would be useless to try and talk privetly.   
   "Hey Scott."   
   "Stiles! Oh my god, are you okay? I was just looking for you and I can smell your blood in the woods with other werewolves! Where are you? Is it the twins? How bad are you hurt?"   
   "Scott, Scott buddy, calm down. Take a couple breaths, okay? I'm not hurt bad, I just ran into a pack that was already living here. We had a bit of a miscommunication."   
   "Wh- Kali didn't say there was already a pack. What the heck?" Scott's confusion bled through the phone.   
   "I know, right? Kinda like how last time she didn't say incubus moved in pairs. Or any of the recent times she's almost gotten us killed. Something fishy is going on."   
   "What kind of a miscommunication did you have with the pack? And where are you?"   
   "Well," Stiles hesitated, giving a sideline look at the man he injured, "I may have shot one of them. And I am currently at their house."   
   "You shot-- are they okay?"   
   "Yeah, yeah he's fine. I'm trying to convince them that I'm not a hunter."   
   "Where's the house? I should meet them."   
Stiles raised his eyes at Talia, putting the choice in her hands. With her nod Stiles directed Scott on how to get to the house,    "Don't push my baby too hard up the hill, Scott. I'm serious. Whatever happens to her, happens to you."   
Once Scott promised to be careful, Stiles hung up and turned back to Talia, "Oh, just so you know, Scott is the alpha of our pack. And, hey, how do alpha's normally meet? Like would we send a person to meet a person from yours? Or do you just plan to meet neutral location? Do you call ahead, just like, stop by?"   
   "Your alpha hasn't told you any of this?" She asked, disapproval in her tone.   
Stiles shook his head, "No, Scott was bitten in our last year of highschool. He became an alpha almost right after. The alpha pack hasn't exactly been forthcoming in werewolf etiquette these past years. We've mostly been winging it."   
   "Sounds like you've got quite the story," remarked a man who looked like a slightly younger version of Mark Ruffalo, leaning on the railing of the porch.   
Stiles grinned, "Trust me, you have no idea. The things we've seen ..."   
   "Maybe you will have a chance to tell us," Talia said vaguely, giving Stiles the faint shimmer of hope that she believed his story and would not, potentially, kill him.   
   "Yeah sure," Stiles smiled, raising his arms to gesture, "I'm an open book. Ask and ye shall be answered. Although maybe the questions should wait until after you've heard the story, then you'd know what to ask about. . ." Stiles trailed off, looking down at his right forearm, at the trail of fresh blood that ran down his fingers and was dripping onto the ground.   
With a hiss he pulled back the sleeve of his thin shirt, revealing the consequences of being caught off guard by a second incubus. The three inch deep gash ran nearly from his elbow to his wrist, turning inward at the last second and nearly nicking his brachial artery, sewn closed with 16 neat little stitches. And it was currently bleeding.   
   "Shit," Stiles sighed, checking to make sure he didn't actually pull the stitches out, "Melissa is going to kill me."   
   "Do you need to go to the hospital?" Talia asked urgently, coming closer to look at his wound in a concerned manner.   
   "Nah, I'm fine. We've got medical stuff in the jeep, I can just wait until Scott gets here."   
Talia started shaking her head immediately, pulling him by his other arm to the porch steps, "Sit down. Laura, go get the kit." Stiles was promptly pushed down into a rocking chair, the many other Hales still giving him a wide berth, settling into the porch furniture, yet not looking as murderous as they were before.   
The girl from before, Laura, returned with a medical bag, stuffed to the brim with medical supplies. Overcompensation was the first thing Stiles thought of, since they all could heal so quickly, it'd make sense that they would be prepared if any humans in the house were injured.   
Then something pulled at his memory again, and suddenly he could remember playing on this very porch, pushing toy cars back and forth with another boy, while a girl sat in a chair reading . . .   
   "Laura," Stiles repeated slowly, "You used to babysit me."   
Talia smiled, rummaging through the bag, "You were about eight, you loved coming over and playing in the woods."   
  "I remember," Stiles nodded faintly, his eyes scanning the faces around him, "and I used to play cars with . . . Derek."   
Of course the only person who could have been his friend now had a jacket with a bullet hole in it, a very very attractive face, and what looked to be an intense hatred of Stiles.   
   "I shot Derek," Stiles realized in horror, looking at the stony face of the man who he could see so vividly smiling in his mind's eye, "I am so sorry. God, I am an awful person."   
   "So," Talia said after a awkward moment of silence, finding and pulling out wipes, "We seem to have some time. How did this whole thing start?"   
Stiles huffed a laugh, pushing away the guilt he felt and trying not to jerk away as she wiped the blood from his arm, "Lets see, . . . I was eighteen. It was the beginning of our senior year in high school, I was being a nosy shit and listening to the police radio. Its something I've always done," Stiles trailed off, not needing to finish with 'ever since dad died.'   
"Anyway, there had been half a body found in the woods, near the school and I dragged my best friend, a seventeen year old, asthmatic, human, named Scott McCall with me to go find the other half."   
Stiles sighed at the look Talia gave him as she applied gauze, "Yeah, yeah. I don't know. I wasn't exactly . . . in a normal place right then. But uh, we found the other half of her and just as I was going to call the search party, something attacked us. It bit Scott, and tore into my leg. We were so freaked out we ran all the way back to his house without stopping to see how bad our injuries were. I'm not the best with hospitals," Stiles shook his head, refusing to look anyone in the eye, focusing on the wrap that was being placed on his arm, "So we doctored each other up and called it a night. The next morning it looked like he had been bitten by a wiener dog instead of a wolf. I on the other hand, was not so lucky. So, about a week went by, and he was getting stranger and stranger, and wouldn't believe me even though I told him I thought he was a werewolf. That's right, I figured it out before he did." Stiles repeated for emphasis.   
Because, come on, who's first guess would be werewolf in that situation? Most people would guess like mountain lion or something.   
   "So, unknown to us, the alpha had also attacked and bitten three other high schoolers; Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. None of us knew one another, but right before the full moon they sniffed each other out and damn near had a fight in the lacrosse field. It was weird," Stiles shook his head, scrunching up his nose at the memory of them all dancing around one another like a very strange, growly, interpretive dance.   
By now Talia was finished wrapping his arm and was putting the supplies away, more focused on him than her hands.   
   "So I had four newly bitten werewolves on my hands, and the full moon was the next night. Now, keep in mind we knew nothing but what I could pull off Google that wasn't porn. We didn't know if they could turn anyone, if they were going to be dangerous to the general population, if the original werewolf was coming back or anything. Flying blind. So I found an old train station, a lot of chains, some calming music, and pages of stuff to try to help them."   
   "How were you not murdered?" a smaller version of Laura with short hair and freckles asked, standing behind Talia's chair.        "That night is ranked number three on my Top Terrifying Night's list. And it gets better. So, I gave up pretty quickly on getting them to calm down, you know, they were being all growly and eye flashy, trying to get away. The thing is, the seat Issac was chained to snapped and he came at me," Stiles stood and lifted his shirt, showing three scars from claws just below his right rib cage.   
"Giving me this. Scott freaked out, started roaring at Issac as he had me pinned, and he sorta slunk away into the corner and quivered. So, suddenly Scott was rational, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night. He started explaining he felt more in control when thinking about a certain thing, blah blah blah. Which we now know is an anchor, thank you very much. I started talking to everybody about it, you know, and by the end of the night everyone was at least coherent. So we survived our first full moon together. Things weren't perfect, but I mean, four omega werewolves and a human making a pack together? That's pretty awesome. It was nearly, maybe, two months? later that the still insane alpha came back. He like, tried to make them part of his pack because he bit them? Had a claim to them, or however that works. Which I was not invited to, by the way, he wanted them to kill me. And I can't really blame them for having trouble resisting an alpha. Scott was the strong one though, he stood up to him and was basically like, 'this town ain't big enough for the two of us, please leave.' which then the alpha beat the shit out of him and went crazy and attacked two others, Jackson and Lydia."   
Stiles knew his heart was beating faster, recalling one of the worst times of his life was leaving a cold sweat all over his body.        "We didn't know that wounds from an alpha take longer to heal. We thought Scott was dying, and his mom was freaking out. We had no idea what Jackson was becoming, he was rejecting the bite, back bile and everything, yet he was healing at a werewolf pace. Lydia was in the hospital for weeks in a coma, healing at a human pace, didn't know if she was going to survive. Found out Issac's dad was beating him and locking him in a freezer. My grandfather who raised me had a heart attack and died in the hospital. The alpha was roaming around, just waiting to attack again."   
Stiles took a deep breath to steady himself, "It wasn't a great time. But we made it. Scott healed and he and I went looking for the alpha. We couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Stiles said, almost pleading them to understand, skipping over the fact that the loss of his grandfather had made him nearly suicidal.   
   "Scott became the alpha and everyone accepted it easily, we're a real pack. Uhm, Jackson turned into a kanima, still not quite sure how, but the paralyzing venom is awesome. Lydia healed and later on we discovered she was a Banshee. That's pretty cool too, now that she can control it. We told Scott's mom everything, and she's a nurse so we don't have to go to the hospital and explain things," he gestured to his arm, "It was almost . . . graduation, I think," Stiles squinted his eyes as he tried to remember, "that the alpha pack sent someone. We were scared, you know? We had only met a handful of other supernatural beings that were passing through, I managed to get a copy of a beastiary from one of them, so with everything I had read, I never thought a pack of alphas could exist. Scott met him, and we were told that we were an unauthorized pack on someone else's territory. That we either had to move, or they would, and I quote, 'take care of this infestation'. We barely had Jackson under control by that time, Erica was still having trouble with her anchor, and Lydia would disappear for days at a time, just to pop up a town over a the scene of a triple murder. I had just discovered that the freaky everyday things happening to me was because all the magical supernatural around me triggered some spark I had in me. So I was potential magic with no outlet. There was no way for us to survive."   
By the way seven heads suddenly turned from where they were engrossed in his story, Stiles knew that Scott was pulling up the driveway, so he stood easily, making sure to keep his arm bent to not pull on the wrap.   
   "That'll be Scott," he said unnecessarily, skipping down the steps.   
A small part of Stiles' chest loosened at the sight of the blue jeep, allowing him to take a deep breath and his heart rate settle. The jeep was hardly jerked into park before Scott was flying out of the seat, racing to Stiles and flinging his arms around his neck.   
Stiles chuckled, staying relaxed and letting Scott burrow into him, raising his good arm to grip the back of Scott's neck.   
   "I'm okay, buddy. Really."   
   "You're bleeding," was the first thing Scott nearly whined when he pulled away, never taking his eyes off Stiles' neck. Just remembering, Stiles raised his hand and felt the dried scabs that were left.   
   "Eh, I've had worse," he gestured to his arm, waiting for Scott to realize that it was freshly bandaged.   
   "Moms going to kill you. She's gonna make you wear a sling now." Scott said, running his hands over the bandage frettingly.   
   "Well, technically I did not rip out the stitches. I just agitated it to the point that it bled again."   
Scott shook his head and grinned, gently pressing his hand to Stiles bare arm, his veins turning black as he drew Stiles' pain away. The sharp sting from his arm and the dull throbbing of his neck disappeared, along with all the other aches and pains from the years, leaving a blissful feeling of nothing in it's wake.   
Stiles leaned his head on Scott's shoulder, indulging himself for a moment before they had to go deal with the mess behind them.   
   "I was so scared that they got you," Scott whispered in his ear, his voice as broken sounding as it was when they huddled together after the first attack.   
   "I'm not gonna die that easily," Stiles muttered, pulling back to smile at Scott, "C'mon. Come meet the Hales. Turns out I know them from when I used to live here."   
Turning around, Stiles lead Scott by the hand up to the porch steps where Talia once again stood. There was a moment of silence, the two alphas staring at each other, neither looking away, yet also not flashing their eyes. Stiles held his breath without realizing it, knowing that if this meeting didn't go well, their fates could drastically change.   
Slowly, Scott raised his hand and offered it to Talia in a very human gesture, "Scott McCall."   
She smiled lightly as she took it, the tense moment broken, "Talia Hale."   
   "I am so sorry about being on your land without your permission, and everything else that has happened," Scott apologized solemnly.   
   "It seems you boys are dealing with things outside of your control at the moment, you don't need to apologize," Talia replied warmly, finally releasing his hand.   
   "I was just explaining our story," Stiles informed Scott, "you pulled up right as I was saying how we met Deucalion."   
   "Come sit and you can tell us the rest," Talia said, waving them up the stairs, sitting down next to Mark Ruffalo.   
Stiles sat in the same chair as before, Scott taking the chair closest to his.   
   "Lets see, where was I? We couldn't fight them, that's right. We had to bargain. So we met with another alpha, Deucalion, who apparently heard and was impressed we took on a feral alpha by ourselves, so he offered us a deal. Any time there was a rouge, or an unpleasant character around that they wanted dealt with, we would catch it and bring it to them. We've gone probably millions of miles over the past five years, like Supernatural just not so murderous and angsty. And in return, they would not kill us. Well," Stiles paused, looking at Scott to see if he agreed, "I'm pretty sure his exact words were 'make sure we live cohesively with the other packs and hunters in the surrounding areas.' Which we got what he meant. But recently they keep giving us all these dangerous jobs. 'Forgetting' to tell us things, like that incubus travel in pairs. Stuff that could get us killed."   
   "Surely if they were trying to kill you they'd be more forward about it," said the snotty guy from before.   
   "Well, in all honesty," Stiles considered the hypothetical scenario, "probably not. If they sent a couple of alphas to kill us, a pack our size and with our training? We might lose one or two people but we would definitely kill them. If they wanted to be straightforward about killing us, they would have to roll out tons of werewolves, and we have Lydia, so they wouldn't have the element of surprise. No, if they were going to kill us, they'd do it from the shadows," Stiles said confidently, "That's how I'd do it, take out the top. Send the others into a tailspin. Maybe start picking them off one by one."   
   "Whoa, Stiles," Scott said, looking pale, "even if we did die, the others wouldn't be so easily killed. Would they?"   
Stiles' thoughts were jumping from thread to thread, going over every little thing from the past couple months, connecting and bull dozing through everything he has ever thought about the alpha pack.  
   "No, you're right. What would be the first thing they would do if they suddenly stopped hearing from us?"   
Scott hesitated, "They'd probably come looking for us."   
   "Exactly, and what would they find?" Stiles looked expectantly at the Hales in front of him, "A large pack probably responsible for our death. If you were insulted enough to kill two 'hunters' from another pack for being on your territory," Stiles spoke directly to Talia now, "What would the result be of an even larger number of people doing the same thing, except very very angry?"   
   "There would be a war," Talia admitted.   
   "With your numbers and experience, you could probably kill all of us. But not without your own casualties. Look at the damage I almost did," Stiles nodded toward Derek, "If your numbers threaten the alpha pack, or maybe they want to knock you down a couple pegs, its done. Two birds with one stone."   
   "Are you saying," Talia almost growled, "That the alpha pack is threatening mine?"   
   "I don't know," Stiles admitted, heart pounding, "I can't give you a clear answer. But why else would they send us chasing a tail that, funny enough, led us directly to your doorstep? Scott, are you one hundred percent sure that what we've been chasing has been legit?"   
   "I was until you started saying that we were being set up to die!" Scott exclaimed, running his hands through his hair worryingly.   
   "Is there like, a werewolf hotline that you would call to alert others that you've had a problem with a trespasser or something? Anything that would alert them that we've been here?" Stiles asked the Hales.   
Talia shook her head, "Packs not related mostly stay in contact through the emissaries representing the pack, its safer for everyone that way. If, hypothetically, we did kill you both, which we would have complete rights to, I would have alerted ours out of courtesy and he would have seen if anyone else had had such an instance."   
   "So they would have known."   
   "Okay, okay," Scott said, almost hysterically, "Is there any way to know for sure if this is whats happening? Because if it is, then that means that everyone is in danger, Stiles, everyone."   
Just as Stiles was taking a breath to reiterate that he had no idea how to know for sure, every head turned to the woods as a howl came out of the distance, audible to even human ears.   
   "Its the twins," Scott said, standing up and hopping down the steps. "Does this mean that we're wrong?"   
   "I don't know, maybe," Stiles said, following behind him, thinking fast, "I plan on asking them."   
   "If it's alright with you," Scott said, addressing Talia, who also stood at the sound, "Do we have permission to find the wolves on your land?"   
Talia nodded coldly, "Some of us will accompany you. If it turns out what you think is true, then we should hear it too."   
   "Quick, hit me," Scott said before Stiles could gather the supplies out of the jeep.   
Stiles was already taking a deep breath, gathering the magic that he could feel in his chest, imagining it as a ball of light in his hand, and smacking it into Scott's chest. Instantly Scott's face was furry, and he ran to the other side of the jeep while removing his shirt, out of view.   
Stiles ran to the back of the jeep, pulling out a backpack and securing it to his chest before reloading his gun.   
   "How many people will be going?" He yelled.   
   "Four."   
Stiles nodded, he could be careful enough not to shoot four people when they got out there, no problem. After cocking his gun and placing it in his holster, Stiles went to the front of the jeep, making sure he stretched his hamstrings while he waited for Scott.   
   "Come on, dude! You're taking forever!"   
With a huff that was audible, a wolf the size of a small horse emerged, shaking its sandy blonde fur and settling it down into place.   
A gasp came from behind him, and Stiles turned to see Talia staring at Scott with wide eyes, "Bitten werewolves can't achieve the full shift, not even bitten alphas."   
   "Yeah, turns out you can hack lycanthropy," Stiles said proudly, scratching Scott behind the ears, "A well placed burst of magic can override traditional rules. Age of the geek, baby."   
Every Hale was staring as if they were just showed the moon, Talia, Laura, Derek, and the one guy Stiles didn't like, obviously the four that were accompanying them.   
   "Do you see now why we're considered dangerous?" Stiles asked.   
With a huff from Scott, Stiles turned back, "Lead the way."   
Scott took off in a blur, disappearing into the trees with Stiles right behind him, neither waiting for the Hales.   
It wasn't long before Stiles could hear them running around him, and yeah, maybe he showed off a bit by making sure he kept up nearly directly behind Scott, but he wanted to make sure none of them had any doubt that he wasn't able to do his job. He didn't spend countless hours of training to be nearly as fast as an alpha for nothing, sometimes his very life depended on speed. The one little thing he did give himself though, was the spell he designed to take the impact off his feet, so that no matter what speed he was going, there was no slamming his feet on the ground, damaging his knees. Every time he stepped down it felt as gentle as if he had stepped in ten pounds of butter.   
It wasn't difficult to find the twins, as they were tearing into trees and shrubbery in a frenzy, occasionally taking a swipe at one another while making very loud noises.  
Stiles stopped beside Scott, breathing calmly and watching until the twins seemed to suddenly realize that they were there. Scott tackled one, his huge body taking the alpha to the ground as if it was nothing, the other twin setting it's sights on Stiles. He immediately dove to the side when the werewolf charged, knowing that trying to fire his gun without accidentally killing the werewolf was going to be impossible, not to mention the fact that he didn't know where any of the Hales were.   
Another blur ran past the werewolf, leaving deep scratches in his chest that started to heal instantly, yet giving Stiles enough time to grab the knife that was strapped to his ankle, wielding it dangerously.   
The alpha roared, being answered by the one fighting Scott, and charged again, aiming to claw Stiles' face off. With a graceful duck, Stiles managed to evade the attack and detach the backpack, tossing it toward the tree.   
Now lighter on his feet, Stiles was able to dance around the alpha, getting his own swings in, yet never for long enough to inject the kanima venom.   
The werewolf was becoming more and more enraged, the cuts on his arms and chest refusing to heal as the knife was soaked in wolfsbane, so his attacks were becoming less and less predictable.   
Talia was suddenly there, running her claws down his back and giving Stiles the opportunity to bury his knife in the alpha's leg, pressing the button on the hilt which released kanima venom from the tip.   
Stiles was quick to step away, already refocusing on how Scott was doing with his, no longer paying attention to the werewolf he knew was already becoming paralyzed.   
Scott was locked in battle with his alpha, snarls and roars coming from both as they crashed around, throwing each other into trees.   
As Stiles watched, Scott took a hold of the twin's leg, swinging him around and impaling him on a low hanging branch, it going directly through his stomach.   
   "Scott! Down!" Stiles shouted, gun out and already shooting by the time Scott was out of his aim. The bullet hit the werewolf in the leg, releasing the wolfsbane and sedative, knocking him out almost instantly.   
Stiles calmly reholstered his gun, breathing heavily, "You okay?"   
Scott shook himself all over, settling back down the fur that had been raked up, bringing to light the fact that he was bleeding on his side.   
   "I'm fine," Stiles said, answering what he knew Scott was asking, already retrieving the backpack and unzipping it, pulling out an extra change of clothes and handing them to Scott.   
   "Go change while I deal with them."   
As Scott trotted off, Stiles pulled out two separate pieces of rope, walking over to the twin he paralyzed, rolling him onto his stomach and ignoring his whines, tying his hands behind him.   
   "Can one of you pull him down?" Stiles asked, knowing all the Hales were standing around without looking up, "He's no use if he bleeds out before he can heal."   
   "What did you do to him?" asked the one guy that Stiles didn't know the name of, coming to stand above Stiles and watch as he rolled the guy back over.   
   "Kanima venom. Paralyzes them," Stiles answered, leaving the hogtied werewolf to go look at the wounds on the other one. There was nothing he could do for the ones inflicted by Scott, those would heal without his help, he was more concerned with the fact that the gaping hole in his stomach was not healing, even though it had been caused by a branch.   
It was the wolfsbane from the bullet that was keeping him from healing at all, and if Stiles wasn't fast enough, the alpha would bleed out before he could remove the bullet and apply the antidote.   
Quick as he could, Stiles tied him up and started on removing the bullet even faster than he had with Derek, burning the wolfsbane in his hand like before and applying it, making sure that the branch wound began healing before moving on to healing the other werewolf's stab wounds.   
Stiles never liked letting the werewolves suffer, no matter what their crime had been. Maybe it was because he was still traumatized from the first time Scott had been hit with a wolfsbane bullet and had suffered for hours until they found the correct type to apply, or maybe because for all the things Stiles was, a sadist was not one of them.   
By the time Stiles was done, the other alpha was thrashing around, growling and trying to escape.   
   "Don't make me put ducktape on your mouth," Stiles warned pointing at the alpha dramatically, "I normally do, but right now I need you to talk."   
   "Something is wrong with them, Stiles," Scott said, emerging from behind a tree, dressed in clothes that already had a bloody spot on the side, "They smell weird."   
   "Define weird," Stiles said, looking around at the others who had gathered, "Like they ran through a Juniper bush? Or they're wearing offensive cologne?"   
   "They smell like," Scott stepped closer and sniffed, "burnt skin. And something else . . ."   
   "A bad spell," Talia stepped in, "that's what you're smelling. These two are under the influence of bad magic."   
   "Making them frenzied?" Laura asked, picking up a stick and poking the alpha with it, watching him snap at it until Derek took the stick away from her.  
Stiles hummed as he walked to the paralyzed one, watching him twitch in his attempts to move, "Scott, come hold this one up."   
As he was leaned up against Scott, Stiles found the rune burnt into the back of the alpha's neck, "Ooooh, looky what I found."      "Can you take it off of him?" Scott asked, looking at the rune in disgust.   
   "Well," Stiles sighed, thinking about how he was going to do this, "I guess we're going to find out."   
Standing, Stiles delicately placed his hand over the rune, feeling the effects of it swirling in the alpha's body, causing every muscle to twitch and move without cause. Taking a deep breath, he imagined a heavy blanket being slowly placed over the alpha, heavy enough to halt any movement, forcing it to pool into Stiles' hand.   
With a swift yank, Stiles pulled the rune off like a band aid, the layers of skin growing back instantly as the alpha finally was still. After finding and doing the same thing to the other one, with the help of the others so that he didn't get bit, both alpha's were panting heavily, sitting up against the same tree.   
   "If that's what life has been like for you two for the past couple days, I don't blame you." Stiles said, taking the flabs of skin and lighting them on fire.   
   "What did you do to him?" the non-paralyzed one demanded, nodding at his brother.   
   "He'll be fine in a few minutes," Scott assured him, "It doesn't last very long."   
   "Well," Stiles said, clapping his hands together, "Where should we start? Maybe at, who are you and how did you get those runes on you?"   
"They attacked us," one twin immediately said, "all we wanted was to leave the pack. That was it. But Deucalion said that if we were going to waste our existence, we might as well be of some use to him. He had the emissary put these on us."   
   "And what exactly was the use?" Talia asked, tone leaving no doubts that she was unhappy about this.   
   "He said we were supposed to lead them here," he nodded to Scott and Stiles, "and once we got here the runes would wear off and we were to leave quietly so it looked like they had no reason to be here. And we would be free. But when we got here they got worse. Please don't kill us."   
   "Easy, easy," Scott soothed calmingly, "Tell me what your name is."   
   "I'm Aiden, that's Ethan."   
   "Okay, listen to me, we are not going to hurt you, or send you back to the alpha pack, alright? I'm sorry that you were used as a pawn against us."   
   "I'm sorry too," Ethan coughed, managing to re-position himself to lean against his brother, "this sucks."   
   "So they are trying to kill us and fuck with the Hales?" Stiles clarified, eyebrows raised.   
   "Why?" Talia asked, "What have we ever done to the alpha pack?"   
   "I think they want this land," Ethan said, "I heard him talking to Kali about how he wished your bloodline was smaller, so that it would be easier to take it."   
   "And that means through killing whats left of your line," Aiden said, "We've been there long enough to know how business goes. Gaining this old land would strengthen him immensely."   
   "And us? What about us?" Scott asked.   
   "You've been a threat ever since you killed that alpha," Ethan admitted.   
   "Are you talking about Oregon?" Stiles asked coldly, "Because we had no choice. We were already too late."   
   "Wait, what are you talking about?" Laura demanded, turning to Scott and Stiles.   
   "We chased a werewolf up to Oregon a couple months ago," Scott explained, "He, he healed wrong in the head. Wasn't right, not even a normal feral. He'd kidnap girls, ten years or younger and run. When we finally tracked him down he had taken another one," Scott hesitated, looking away in shame, "we were too late to save her. We couldn't get him under control, we were losing. It was our last resort."   
   "What makes that alpha any different?" Stiles demanded, fighting past the memories that still haunted him, "We've killed an alpha before, why did this one change the game?"   
   "Because when an alpha kills another alpha, he absorbs the power," Talia explained, looking like she was lost in a memory, "That's the basis of the alpha pack. How their heriarchy works."   
   "So when we killed the alpha, we discovered a secret without knowing it," Stiles concluded, "He assumed we knew. And that threatened him, because as strong as we are now, knowing how to surpass him in power, well. He can't let that happen, can he?"   
   "So we are direct threats," Scott said, looking at Stiles.   
   "He'll never stop, Scotty," Stiles told him, "He'll hunt us to the ends of the earth and kill every single one of us."   
   "What are we going to do?" Scott asked hopelessly, and Stiles could practically see his heart breaking at the thought.   
   "We'll have to kill Duelicon."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is finally.  
> Be sure to check added tags!

   "You're going to take on the leader of the alpha pack?" Derek asked, speaking for the first time to Stiles since this morning.  
   "Seems like that'll get the point across to the rest, right? 'Stay the fuck away from us.'"   
   "We're going to have to call Lydia," Scott said, his phone already out, "Make a plan."   
   "Don't use your phone," Stiles warned, taking it from his hand, "There's a chance he could be watching it. If he see's us make a very long call back home then that'll mean something is off, right?" Stiles shook his head, removing the battery from Scott’s phone, then his own, putting the pieces in his pocket, "No. Best bet is to make him think we actually died here, as planned."          "Stiles, we have to warn the others!"   
   "And we will, just using a different phone," Stiles cautioned, "we only get one chance at the element of surprise. We can't mess this up."   
   "Okay, okay, so you guys are going to attack the alpha pack, fine," Aiden said, "If anyone had said that I would have laughed, but you guys probably have a good chance. What’s going to happen with us?"   
   "We're going to let you go," Scott immediately replied, then quickly turned to Talia, "Uh, if that's okay with you."  
She shrugged, "I have no use for them."   
   "Just know that if you try anything, I will drop your paralyzed asses in a pool, alright?" Stiles warned, waiting for them to nod before untying them, placing the rope in his backpack.  
   "I do have one more question for you though," Stiles said after he stood, looking at the pair of them rubbing their wrists, "Would you like to get revenge on the pack that sent you to your deaths?"  
   "Sent us to our deaths?" Ethan asked in confusion.   
   "Those runes were never meant to wear off. You two would eventually have killed one another because of them, and it would have sold the story if we were assumed hunters."   
They looked at each other in silent conversation, then Ethan asked, "What do you need us to do?"  
Stiles dug through the bag, pulling out a disposable cell phone and tossing it to them, "Lay low, recharge for a while. Wait for us to call. I might need information about the pack, and if you decide to join us in the final show down, the sight of you both should piss them off."   
   "Maybe after all of this, you'll have somewhere new to go," Scott said, offer not lost on anyone. The twins both looked at him oddly, then each other and nodded, leaving immediately.   
   "How is that going to work?" Stiles muttered.   
   "I don't know," Scott hummed, "but its always nice to know you could have a place somewhere."   
   "My head hurts," Stiles groaned, pressing his hand to his temple, "figuring out murder plots always leaves me with a migraine."   
   "Shit," Laura cursed, looking at the both of them, "this is the most excitement we've seen in forever. Plots of death! Secret survival! Plans of attack! Your guys' lives must be exhausting."   
Stiles hummed before turning to Scott, "We need to leave. I wouldn't put it past him not to have someone watching us, or even the motel to make sure we don't go back."   
   "Where are we going to go? Home?" Stiles shook his head, "Not safe. Maybe get a motel a few towns over. Call Lydia from there."   
   "You're running?" the guy-whose-name-Stiles-still-didn't-know asked with a laugh.   
   "What else should we do, stay here? You want us to put your pack in danger?"   
   "I think Peter has a point," Talia said, "Though he's not to well at getting to it. It would be simpler if you stayed here, we have room. Then we could be involved in the plan too."   
   "Talia, you don't have to be involved in this," Scott said immediately, "This is our problem, which we dragged you into. You shouldn't have to fight."   
   "I am not going to sit back and let Duecalion think he can toy with the lives of me and mine," she said intensely, "I can't speak for my entire family, but I am willing to risk my life to make sure everyone is safe."   
   "You two are so alike its almost scary," Stiles muttered, looking at the two alphas.   
   "I'm pretty sure you've said something like that more than I have," Scott laughed, "Mister. Better-check-if-the-cake-Danny-made-is-poisonous-by-taking-a-piece-before-everybody-else."   
   "Self sacrificing is my middle name," Stiles yawned, rubbing his eyes. It had taken nearly an entire night of driving to get to Beacon Hills, both of them working in four hour shifts so neither ended up crashing the car. The lack of sleep which had been staved off by adrenaline had finally caught up to him.   
   "So, if not in a hotel, where can we stay?" Scott asked Talia.   
   "There are multiple cottages on our land, you can use one of those," Talia said, beginning to walk back toward the house, the other Hales following closely, "We have extended family staying in the one closest to the house. There is one not far from here for you to stay in."   
   "You have extended family staying?" Scott asked, eyebrows raised. Talia hesitated to reply, obviously having realized this previously, "Yes, we do."   
   "The twins gave him the perfect opportunity," Stiles said, following close behind Scott as so he didn't have to pay much attention to where he was going, trusting Scott to not let him fall, "I bet his original plan was probably kidnapping some innocent werewolves and letting them die."   
   "Damn, what's his deal?" Laura asked, walking beside Derek and her mother.   
"He's obsessed with making the perfect pack," Scott explained, while gently steering Stiles away from walking into a tree, "comprised of only the most powerful alphas. He's like Voldemort, building the death eaters. If you're not a pureblood, you are the scum beneath his shoe. Muggleborn, half-blood, squib, bitten, or even remotely human, you're nothing to him."   
   "Thank you, J.K. Rowling," Stiles muttered, grinning.   
   "I'm gonna let you fall," Scott threatened playfully, stepping out of reach when Stiles stumbled over a fallen branch.   
   "You should be carrying me, I got us to the hotel this morning and had to drag your sleeping ass to bed," Stiles complained dramatically, managing to right himself.   
   "You didn't drag me!" Scott said, "I was conscious."   
Stiles snorted, "Barely."   
The resulting slap fight lasted until they emerged in a small clearing, a cottage at the very center of it, reminding Stiles of every fairy tale he has ever heard.   
   "I feel like I'm a princess," he said faintly, staring at the beautiful house before him   
   "What does that make me, then?" Scott asked, rubbing his side from where the wound previously was.   
   "My noble steed," Stiles answered without hesitation, earning a smack to the back of his head.   
   "There's only the essentials, toilet paper, towels, some utensils," Talia explained, fishing out a set of keys and unlocking the cottage door, switching on a light and revealing a pleasantly furnished house, "We hardly ever use this one, I'll send over some more things. The path leads directly to the main house, about a fifteen minute walk, enough for privacy. You can even pull your vehicle in back here. Okay?"   
   "Thank you, Talia," Scott said, turning from staring at the inside of the cottage to look her in the eyes meaningfully, "You've done so much for us already, thank you for letting us stay here."   
   "And for not killing us," Stiles nodded importantly, "not many people we’ve meet have been as kind as you."   
   "Its no trouble," she smiled, "Do you have to return to your hotel at some point to collect your things?"   
   "Nah," Stiles shook his head, "I pulled into Beacon Hills at four a.m. I didn't unload any of our stuff, its all still in the jeep. And I already paid for the next two days, so we're good."   
   "Okay then. We'll leave you to get settled." Talia said, unhooking the key and placing it in Scott's open palm, nodding at them both before leaving quietly, the other three following behind her.   
   "Shit, Scotty," Stiles sighed seconds later after entering the cottage and closing the door, running his hands through his hair as he slumped against the door, "What have we gotten ourselves into?"   
   "Somehow, I don't think that this is our fault," Scott said, gently grabbing Stiles by the shoulders so he could look him in the eye, "We knew that Deucalion was always going to pull something like this, its been coming for years."   
Stiles sighed again, guilt rising up in his chest, making it difficult to breathe, "But if I'd tried harder with that alpha, maybe . . ."    "Stiles, you did the best you could. It nearly killed us both," Scott said, "Look, we're both exhausted, let's get some sleep."   
   "We need to call home," Stiles shook his head, shaking off Scott to locate a hardwired phone that was on the kitchen counter, "Talk to Lydia, make a plan."   
   "No one is home right now," Scott said, taking the phone out of Stiles' hand and hanging it up, "Its past noon, everyone is at work. The most we can do is probably get in touch with Issac and then he'll just be in panic mode all day."   
Stiles could hear the worry in Scott's voice, the silent begging to spare Issac until they could talk to everyone, "Okay, okay, fine. It can wait."   
   "Good," Scott said, dragging Stiles through the house, "Lets find a bed."   
The house was only big enough to support two rooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and living room, but neither of them complained, both stripping down to their boxers (in Stiles' case, unloading all of his weapons and placing them on the nightstand within reach), pulling the curtains until the room was semi-dark and faceplanting in the first bed they found.   
Stiles only woke up once during their nap to kick off the covers, Scott's werewolf body heat being enough to keep them warm, before settling back down with his back to Scott's chest just as they've slept since they were little.   
It could have been days later for all Stiles knew when he was woken by a thudding coming from somewhere else in the house. For a terrifying second he couldn’t remember where he was, going tense enough to cause Scott to whine faintly in his sleep, scooting closer until they were touching and Stiles calmed enough to remember the events of the day. Then to identify that the sound was knocking.   
He pushed Scott off of him gently, untangling their legs and grabbing a random shirt off the floor, judging by the lack of sleeves, Scott's.  
   "You're a terrible guard dog," he mumbled to Scott, who was still fast asleep as he padded out of the bedroom.   
After opening the door to the second bedroom on accident, Stiles really tried to focus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he opened the correct door to find Derek and Laura standing with large boxes in their hands.   
   "Uhh," Stiles muttered eloquently, equally surprised at the people and how late it appeared to be, it was nearly dark.   
   "Mom sent some things over," Derek said coolly, referring to the things in the boxes they carried.   
   "Right, right," Stiles mumbled, standing back to let them both in and shutting the door behind them.   
They both deposited the boxes on the small table with ease, Laura beginning to unload the one that was nearly overflowing.        "Toiletries, soap, shampoo, tissues, extra towels, and some cleaning spray in case its too dusty in here," Laura listed off, "Derek's box is full of food, some perishables like hamburger, milk, eggs, and salad, other stuff like mac and cheese, cereal, cans, coffee with powdered creamers, and shelf stable soup starters. I think there's tofu and soy stuff too, if you're into that." Stiles couldn't do anything but stand and stare at the piles of stuff, probably with his mouth hanging open, "Wow, just . . . wow. Thank you so much. I wasn't expecting this much."   
   "There's also raw cinnamon rolls," Derek said quietly, pulling a large bag of raw dough out of his box, "They're pre-made, all you have to do is stick them in the oven."   
   "Are those home-made?" Stiles asked, staring at the bag with wide eyes.   
   "Yeah."   
Stiles hadn't tasted home-made cinnamon rolls since his mom had made them, store bought being a sad reproduction. His grandfather had never been big breakfast eater, and Melissa was always working the morning shift, so no one had ever made them for him again. He had tried making them himself once, following a recipe that was supposed to be good for his grandfather's heart, but he got distracted playing video games with Scott and burnt them to the point they were inedible. Stiles threw them out and hasn't tried again since.   
   "That is awesome," Stiles said finally, mouth already watering, "Thank you."   
   "No problem," Laura said, already unpacked and flattening the box, "Uh, can you come move your jeep? Its blocking my car and I have to leave early tomorrow."   
   "Oh, yeah," Stiles said, looking to see if Scott left the keys on a counter, and awkwardly realizing that he was still in his underwear, "Let me just go put some pants on and find the keys."   
Walking quickly to the bedroom, Stiles tried his hardest to keep from making too much noise, grabbing his shoes and going through the laundry on the floor until he found Scott's shorts, hearing the keys in the pocket and pulling them on as quietly as he could. Shutting the door carefully, Stiles followed the Hales out of the cottage and down the path.   
   "Pretty different from a couple hours ago, huh?" Stiles chuckled, referring to the fact that they were both walking on either side of him again.   
   "Yeah, except this time no one is bleeding," Laura said, glancing at Stiles' neck.   
   "Very true," Stiles agreed, making a mental note to wash whatever dried blood still remained on his neck.   
   "And this time we know you could outrun us if you really wanted," Derek said, tone not sounding as if it was a good thing.   
   "I wouldn't have ran anyway," Stiles shook his head, slapping his feet on the dirt path, "That would have guaranteed our deaths."   
   "And coming with us didn't?"   
   "It was a slim chance, but a chance none the less," Stiles reasoned.   
   "So what if we weren't friendly? What would you have done if we actually tried to kill you?"   
Stiles snorted, "Trust me, your greeting was hardly friendly, but I've had much worse in any case. And anyway, I knew you guys weren't gonna hurt us."   
   "How could you have possibly known that? Are you that confident that you can talk yourself out of everything?" Laura asked.      "Well," Stiles hesitated, wondering if he should divulge the little piece of information about himself to the both of them, before deciding that it couldn't hurt, "I have this odd knack for being able to tell if a person is . . . trustworthy? Not evil. I get these hunches."   
   "Seriously?" Derek asked in a deadpan voice, amazing eyebrows raised.   
   "Yeah, yeah," Stiles sighed, "I know what you're thinking. Silly, semi-human guy thinking he's all special just cause he can do a bit of magic. But seriously, in high school there was this guy, Matt, who I've never liked. Scott always thought I was being dramatic when I said I didn't want to be anywhere near him, but I didn't trust him. At the time that Jackson had been bitten, but wasn't turning into a wolf, he was freaking out and wouldn't come near us, even got a restraining order against me. Uh, somehow Matt found out about Jackson being a Kanima and became his master, then used him to kill a whole swimming team and teacher that he had a grudge against. I mean, they did almost let him drown in a hazing, but still . . . it’s a bit overboard. So he turned out to be a serial killer, which I totally sensed. And it wasn't an isolated event, trust me. Every single person that I've ever had a bad feeling about has turned out rotten."   
   "Woooow," Laura elongated dramatically, "Does that have something to do with your magic?"   
   "No idea," Stiles shook his head, trying to dispel the odd feeling in his temples, swinging his hands casually, "I’ve never had a mentor or anything, and the alpha pack definitely isn't going to invest in teaching me. Everything I know right now is self taught, or learned out of a bestiary."   
   "That's cool," Laura said earnestly, "home schooled magic."   
   "I guess you could call it that," Stiles chuckled, distracted by the pressure behind his eyes that was growing with every step closer to the main house.   
   "Are you alright?" Derek asked as they came up on the cars, watching Stiles lean heavily on the hood of his jeep.   
   "Yeah, I just . . . something's different," Stiles tried to explain, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, as if that would relieve the pressure, “Different from before.”   
   "Are you gonna faint?" Laura asked, "Or throw up? Cause you're looking very pale."   
With his eyes still closed, Stiles could hear a door being opened and closed, the pressure in his head doubling as if his head was a balloon filled to its max, ready to burst.   
"Stiles, are you alright?" came Talia's voice, somewhere on his left, "Deaton, what's going on? Are you doing something to him?" Aware that there was someone here who he had never met before, Stiles sent out a pulse of magic, working like echo location, returning to him if having hit anything with magic. There were three rebounds of werewolf magic, varying strengths alike, and one of something else, stronger magic than he had ever seen. It was originating near Talia, and once he could focus on the location, Stiles could feel the thin mist of magic, most likely a ward on the person, that was causing him the pain.   
Stiles quickly formed a bubble of his own magic surrounding him, the headache disappearing instantly, allowing him to sigh in relief and uncover his eyes.   
"That was rude," Stiles scolded the man before him, obviously the Hale emissary, "Do you do that to every poor, defenseless person with magic? I bet you do."   
After a second of silence, the man cleared his throat, "I apologize. When Talia said you merely had a spark I didn't think your magic would be strong enough to be affected."   
   "I refuse to be offended by that," Stiles said after a second, plastering on a fake smile, "What's that ward even for, anyway?"   
   "It slows down any magic user that is a potential threat until I find if they are dangerous or not."   
   "Bit late for that, isn't it? I already shot him," Stiles jerked his thumb backward to indicate Derek. "And shouldn't a ward like that be placed on the house, instead of a person? But I guess it could be too intricate to translate, either onto the building and even if that works, you would have to tie it to someone at least so they would be alerted when its in effect, right? But then there could be limitations to how far the person could be away from the area to have it still work, and not to mention where its power source would be . . . Never mind, I get it."   
   "So you do," he responded slowly, almost in amazement of Stiles' rant.   
   "Okay," Talia said slowly, looking between the both of them, "Stiles, are you alright now?"   
   "I'm great," he smiled a bit more warmly at her, "Thank you for all the food and supplies, although we could have just gone out and bought what we needed."   
   "Oh, its no problem," she smiled, waving a hand, "Don't worry about it. Have you spoken to the rest of your pack?"   
   "Nah, everybody will just be getting home right about now, Scott thought we probably should wait until we could talk to everyone, instead of freaking one person out until they could get a hold of everyone else," Stiles explained, ignoring the light probing of his magic bubble by the emissary. "I was just going to drive the jeep back."   
   "Sounds like a good plan," Talia said, "Just come on up to the house whenever you guys are ready, tomorrow morning or such."   
   "Thanks," Stiles smiled, opening the unlocked jeep and hopping in, rolling down his windows to look the Deaton guy in the eyes, as he felt another jab at his bubble, "That's inappropriate dude, the least you could do is buy me dinner before you start with the heavy petting."  
Deaton simply raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to answer as Stiles started the jeep, stepping away as he began to roll. Looking at the slightly alarmed faces of Talia and the others, Stiles grinned, "Its okay, I won't file a sexual harassment suit with the FBSI. See you guys later!"   
Stiles heard 'goodnight's' from behind him, and drove steadily down the path, getting back to the cottage in what felt like seconds compared to their walk. He made sure to park with the hatch facing the house, so he could unload easier, and if they needed to make a quick get away they wouldn't have to turn around.   
Stiles grabbed the four duffle bags, one for both him and Scott, one with weapons, and one with medical supplies, carrying them all at once, even managing to shut the hatch and open the cottage door. He gave himself a mental victory high five at doing it all in one trip.   
He dumped them on the couch, not bothering to take their bags to the bedroom, deciding instead to go through the things Talia sent over, after he relieved himself and cleaned his neck. Read as; finding food.   
It didn't take long to have everything out on the counters, meat, soy, eggs, tofu, and dairy already put in the fridge. The rest of the shelf stable foods were put into the cupboards without much order, exactly how he does it at home, much to the annoyance of everyone.   
Stiles hummed along to himself as he started making macaroni and cheese, already designing a ward similar to the one Deaton had, trying to figure out how he could possibly make little ones for everyone in the pack, able to function off the magic they naturally had and probably not harm the other person, just give them an idea of how powerful of person they were dealing with.   
By the time the noodles were done and hamburger fried, Stiles had found a sketch book and written down his ideas, sketched out not only what the ward would look like if it were an object, but also as a more permanent tattoo.   
Scott lumbered his way out of the bedroom as Stiles was filling their bowls, rubbing his eyes and sporting some truly terrible bedhead.   
   "Morning, sleeping beauty," Stiles said, handing him a bowl and sticking a spoon in it, "Have a good nap?"   
   "You're wearing my clothes," Scott whined adorably, eyes still half closed, as he stared at the food in his hands.   
   "Dude, by now we should just merge our closets, we wear each others stuff the whole time. If you're really going to complain about it, go get the shirt Issac always sneaks into your bag whenever we leave."   
   Scott perked up immediately at the realization, taking his food into the living room and ruffling through the bags, pulling out a plain gray t-shirt and burying his nose in it.   
   "You weirdo werewolves," Stiles teased, folding himself up in the recliner, "always so excited by smells. Its kinky, that's what it is."   
   "Its not kinky," Scott replied, muffled by said shirt he was pulling on, "its comforting. Like a security blanket."   
   "Probably smells like sex, he jerk off in that shirt?" Stiles asked, watching Scott blush as he sat down to eat.   
   "You know Issac doesn't do that," Scott smiled and shook his head, beginning to eat.   
   "Yeah," Stiles agreed softly, already thinking about the next task before them. "We should call them."   
Scott sighed heavily, chewing his food before answering, "Yeah, I just . . . don't want everyone to freak out too much."   
   "We just found out that the people we've been working for for the past five years have decided they want us dead, for finding out something we really didn't even know about. And not even just that, they want us to start a war! They're not going to take this well at all."   
"Boyd will be home soon. Call in ten?" Scott suggested.  
Stiles nodded, slowly eating his macaroni, replaying the events of the day.   
   "So," Scott said suddenly, glancing over at Stiles with a grin, "You just happened to shoot the most attractive and age appropriate guy of the Hales?"   
   "It wasn't like it was on purpose," Stiles groaned around a mouthful, "and of course, I used to hang out here when I was younger, with Derek. So now I'm forever known as the guy who shot him. He probably hates me."   
   "I don't know," Scott shook his head and grinned as he teased, "by the way he was looking at you in the woods he liked the sight of you with a gun."   
   "Oh my god, shut up."   
   "And besides, that's the reason Lydia and Erica love to fight, apparently it makes the sex much better."   
   "Ok, I'm not saying that a bit of anger doesn't make for some good sex, if you're cool with it, but I'm pretty sure that 'You keep taking my phone charger,' and 'Shoot him in the fucking gut,' involve different levels of anger."  
Scott chuckled, scrapping his bowl clean, "True, true. But still, don't give up yet, its not a lost cause."   
   "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can write him off as a potential marriage candidate. I'll just have a healthy polymorus relationship with Boyd and Jackson. Then everyone will have a lover," Stiles nodded confidently at his plan.   
"Ehh, I don't think so," Scott speculated, "Its not looking like Dannys going to stay with James, I give it about a week before he breaks up with him."   
   "Shit, with the way James is being so jealous and possessive of him? Nah, I don't think it'll last even that long. Three days, tops."   
   "Is Danny going to be allowed in your relationship?" Scott asked.   
   "Maybe Jackson will pull his shit together by then and admit he's been in love with Danny since high school," Stiles said, setting his half eaten bowl down in his lap.   
   "Jackson says he's straight," Scott shrugged, "We can't decide his orientation for him."   
   "Even when he's being painfully obvious and by the time he pulls his head out of his ass Danny will be gone?"   
   "Yup," Scott sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. "Well here we are, eating mac and cheese, talking about boys and knowing we're being hunted; its high school all over again."   
"Except this time," Stiles began, setting his bowl down on the coffee table and digging through a bag to grab another disposable phone, sitting down next to Scott, "we have a kick ass pack, the cooperation of an older and more skilled pack, and a thousand more reasons than before to live."   
Scott smiled sadly and nodded, then pulled Stiles into a hug that had gotten nothing but better over the years. A hug from Scott could melt away any problem you had, even if you were sick. Stiles was sure that it was a super power that he had been born with, a hereditary condition as Melissa could do it too.   
Stiles sighed and pulled away, already dialing the number and hitting speaker phone. It was picked up on the third ring, with a solemn, "Hello?"   
   "Hey, Boyd, its us," Scott said, "Is everyone there?"   
   "Yeah, everyone is home. Is something wrong?"   
   "Oh boy," Stiles sighed, glancing at Scott, "You have no idea. Call in the class, its story time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever. I'd write down all the reasons why I literally could not get this written any sooner, but that would be longer than this whole fic. Unwritten words included.  
> Hope you like it!   
> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and kudos needed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another update! Don't judge me for being late, please. I'm fragile.   
> Mistakes are all mine! (Comment if you find one and I will fix it)  
> Constructive criticism is welcome!

It didn’t take long before everyone was demanding to know what was happening, knowing that something was wrong simply by the sound of their voices.   
Scott eventually had to put on his ‘alpha voice’ that worked even through the phone, ordering everyone to calm down and listen.   
   “All right, first things first,” Stiles began, bringing the phone up so it rested on their touching shoulders, “We are okay, completely unharmed. No need to have hot heads because of us, okay?”   
   “Well,” Scott said, drawing the word out, “You were hurt.”   
   “Okay, amendment,” Stiles quickly said, sticking his tongue out at Scott, “I made my arm bleed again, and a werewolf kinda scratched my neck up. But other than that, we’re fine.”   
   There was a grumbling that Stiles couldn’t decipher through the phone, until Lydia spoke and sounded so angry that it was clear what had been said, “Who hurt you?”   
   “Believe it or not, it was one of the good guys,” Stiles said, “You know what? Let’s just make a rule right now, no freaking out. No one is allowed to freak out until we tell the whole story. Okay? Boyd you watch them and make sure nobody is breaking the rules and wolfing out. Agreed?”   
   There were chorus’ of agreement, Scott nodding next to Stiles.   
   “Now, Scott said he wanted to tell the story, so take it away Scott,” Stiles quickly said, gesturing for Scott to begin.   
   “Yeah, no,” Scott said grinning, “I figure today started with you, so you should have the honor to tell everyone.”   
Stiles managed to give him a stink eye before sighing dramatically, “Fine,” and then sobered up, “This morning I went to go see my parent’s graves and when I left I wasn’t exactly . . . in a great state of mind.”   
   The end of the line was silent and Scott’s hand moved gently over his, squeezing reassuringly. The news was no surprise, Stiles had told everyone the second he knew where the twins were headed, but based on his past experiences with loss . . . he knew they feared he’d become self destructive.   
   “So as I was walking back, I might have shot a werewolf without making sure that it was one of the twins,” Stiles finished in a rush, as if that would make it seem more irrelevant.   
There was a long drawn out groan, ending in a sigh, “Way to go, Stilinski.”   
   “Shut up, Jackson. I refuse to believe you would have handled it better. So, he went down and his sister pinned me to a tree until I could convince her that it was an accident and I could fix him. I did and then they took me to their alpha, with a huge pack might I add, and while I’m trying to convince them that I am not a hunter, I end up having to tell our whole story. Then Scott shows up and meets their alpha and they decided not to kill us.”   
   “No one warned us about a pack being there!” Erica said angrily.   
   “Exactly,” Scott said, nodding along, “So then Stiles starts wondering why and comes up with an explanation that was immediately confirmed by the twins we caught with the Hales.”   
   “The alpha pack set us up to collide with the Hale pack, which would have caused our deaths and wounded, if not killed, some of them. Sooner or later you all would have come looking for us and caused a war to wipe out both packs. The alpha pack would have us gone and the power from the Hale land.”   
   “But, why?” Issac was the first to speak, “What have we done all of a sudden?”   
   “Maybe they’re tired of keeping track of us?” Danny asked, muffled in the background.   
   “They don’t keep track of us,” Boyd replied, “as long as we bring the bad guys in, they don’t care what we do.”   
   “Lydia?” Scott asked, knowing she has been brainstorming.   
   “It has to be something with the werewolf in Oregon,” her voice rang out, “the jobs have gotten more and more dangerous ever since then.”   
Stiles nodded, momentarily forgetting that they could not see him, “Apparently, when an alpha kills another alpha, he absorbs their power. That’s how the alpha pack works, killing others to rise in power. We became a threat.”   
   “Oh my god,” Stiles could barely hear Issac through the phone, “Will they be coming here next?”   
   “No, no,” Scott quickly said, rushing to keep Issac from worrying too much, “They want us to be killed first and lure you all here. Our phones are off and the Hales have let us stay here for now. Everyone is safe.”   
   “For now,” Stiles added.   
   “So what about these Hales?” Erica asked, “Are they angry?”   
   “No, they understand,” Scott explained, “Talia, the alpha, said she wants to help us.”   
   “Help us do what, exactly?” Danny asked, voice grainy through the phone, “Are we going to fight the alpha pack? Or run?” Stiles looked at Scott with his eyebrows raised sadly, before returning to the phone, “That’s the thing. We all know we could fight them. We’re stronger than ever before, we have the alliance of another pack, we have the twins who have agreed to give us inside information about how they work, and all we would have to do is kill Deucalion, hopefully rest won’t mess with us after that.”   
   “Plan B?” Boyd asked quietly.   
   “We could run, disappear completely and make a new home somewhere else.”   
   “How long would we have to keep running?” Lydia asked, “They have fingers everywhere, we would always have to worry about being near another pack and having them alert Deucalion. We would be even more confined than we are now.”   
   “That is true.”   
   “So we have no choice,” Jackson concluded.   
   “There is always a choice,” Stiles shook his head, “It may not be the best option, but it could be done. And if some people don’t want to fight, even if that is the path we choose . . .”   
   “Then they can leave,” Scott said softly, “without anyone being angry at them, or hurt. They would still be part of the pack, still family, but safe. Away from this, with the kids.”   
When there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line, Scott sighed and leaned forward, cradling the phone in his hand, “I know that our whole lives, we’ve fought for the right to live, all without wanting to, doing it just because we had to fight. But no one has to here, and I am not going to order you to put your lives on the line. I don’t want you all to follow me blindly, we each have our own reasons to live and fight. I want everyone as safe as possible for the rest of our lives, and if that means you all need to run, then I want you to do it. I don’t want you to stay as a guilt trip, or because you feel required or indebted to fight. Promise me you all will think about it for a couple days, really, really think about it, all right?”   
After there was a murmur of agreement from the phone, Scott turned to Stiles, “You too. You don’t have to stay just because you’re my best friend.”   
   Stiles had to clear his throat before he could speak, it having suddenly gone dry and tight, “And what about you? Just because you are the alpha doesn’t mean you asked for this, for any of this shit. You shouldn’t be forced to stay either.”   
Stiles could see the hesitancy in Scott’s eyes, knew him well enough to know that there was no way Scott was going to run away from this, he would stay and fight Deucalion and die protecting his pack without hesitating. Not even just the honor of an alpha protecting his pack, this was a human Scott McCall protecting his friends.   
   “I’ll think about it if you do?” Stiles offered, knowing that his heartbeat gave away the lie, but refusing to accept anything else. Scott offered him a small smile, knowing exactly what Stiles was saying, and nodded, gripping his hand again and squeezing tight. If they were going to fight and die, it would be together.   
   “Okay,” Scott said, clearing his throat, “So, the alpha pack thinks we are dead, killed by the Hales. Stiles thinks that they are going to wait until you guys would come looking for us at the Hales and inevitably start a fight that you would not win. Then they will swoop in and kill whoever remains and take control of the Hale land. So we have a decent window of opportunity to plan our attack.”   
   “If we had suddenly stopped hearing from you,” Lydia began, acting as if the previous conversation had never happened, “We wouldn’t have waited too long to come looking for you, maybe three days at most.”   
   “And as far as they know, we have no reason to leave anyone behind to come look for you,” Boyd supplied, “they would think they sent everyone to their deaths.”   
   “So we’re following their plan, right?” Isaac asked, “Making them think you guys are dead and we are coming to look for you? Except for the fact that nobody will actually die.”   
   “I figure,” Stiles began, “whoever decides to fight can drive up here, and then while the alpha pack thinks we’re fighting the Hales, we can be headed for Deucalion.”   
   “Attack him directly?” Jackson demanded, Stiles could just imagine his eyebrows raised, “Does anyone even know where he is?”   
   “We gave a phone to the twins and they’ve said they will help us too,” Scott replied, “They can tell us where they stay and everything we need to know.”   
   “I don’t know if I like this,” Lydia said, “How can we trust them not to be sent by the alpha pack and feeding us false information?”   
   “They were under a spell, making them frenzied and it would have ended up killing them, Lyds. I didn’t even know if I was going to be able to get it off of them, let alone the alpha pack have enough faith in me to save them.”   
   “Is there any other way we could get information that’s not from them?” Erica asked.   
Stiles scratched his chin and thought about Deaton, “I met the Hales emissary, weird dude with strong magic. I guess we could talk to him about what he knows.”   
   “When did you meet him?” Scott asked, eyebrows pulled together. “Oh, when I went to move the jeep, before dinner. He had this ward on him that reacted to my magic, gave me an awful headache until I blocked him out. He apparently thought my magic wouldn’t even be strong enough to trigger it.”   
   “What was the ward for?” Lydia asked curiously. “He said it was to slow down potential threats until he could decide if they were safe or not. I’ve already plagiarized it and designed my own for everyone, its small enough that it won’t hurt the other person, but it’ll give you an idea of how powerful they are.”   
   “Cool.”   
   “I thought it would be useful,” Stiles shrugged modestly.   
   “How is everything at home?” Scott asked, giving them a break from the pressing matters at hand.   
   “Fine, Isaac nearly burned the house down,” Boyd revealed, humor in his tone.   
   “I did not!” Isaac said heatedly, “The smoke detector went off because of bacon! Bacon! How does that even happen?”   
Stiles and Scott grinned to one another, “Did you burn it?”   
   “No! See, that’s the thing, it was perfect!” Isaac described in such an earnest way it had nearly everyone laughing, “Perfectly cooked to a crisp, nothing was burnt or even charred. There wasn’t even any smoke! I knew putting the smoke detector in the kitchen was a bad idea, but no one ever listens to me!”   
   “The kitchen is the most likely place in a house for a fire to start, we’ve been through this,” Danny said.   
   “And I will once again bring up a point;” Stiles added, “you’re all werewolves. You would smell something smoldering or on fire long before smoke would reach the ceiling!”   
   “This is the only house perfectly accommodating us within the city, Stiles,” Lydia repeated, as she has every time they’ve had this conversation, “We cannot afford to lose it because no one was here to smell a fire!”   
   “As always, wonderful point,” Scott said, still unmoving from his stance on the matter, the traitor, “But maybe we can move it further away from the kitchen, in the hall maybe?”   
   “I will do that immediately,” Isaac announced victoriously, “like, before bed.”   
   “Speaking of food, did you guys eat?” Erica asked.   
   “Yeah, yeah, I made macaroni with hamburger,” Stiles replied, skipping over the fact that he barely ate half his bowl, knowing exactly what her wrath is like about his tendency to not eat during a job.   
   “Where did you buy that?”   
   “Talia sent over some food,” Stiles explained, partly to them and partly to Scott, “and other stuff. She’s a very kind, mothering type who could also kick your ass in a heartbeat.”   
Scott chuckled beside him, “I would hate to have had to fight her.”   
   “Me too,” Stiles agreed, thinking back to when he first saw her, “I swear, she’s scarier than her whole pissed off family put together. Derek included.”   
   “Who’s Derek?” Jackson asked.   
   “Just the totally hot guy Stiles shot,” Scott answered before Stiles could.   
   “Oh really?” came a teasing reply from multiple people.   
   “Is he your type, Stiles?” Lydia asked, gleefully.   
   “I don’t have a type!” Stiles defended, feeling as if he was a teenager again, “There is more to people than their good looks, you know!”   
   “Oh trust me, I know,” Lydia laughed.   
   “Oh man do I know,” Erica said dirtily, obviously to Lydia, causing Stiles to roll his eyes.   
   “How are the kids?” Scott asked, pulling the two away from what Stiles is sure was serious eye-fucking.   
   “Fine,” Boyd replied, “Liam is convinced he doesn’t need to take naps anymore, the teacher said he stayed up looking out the window the whole nap time.”   
   “He’s been cranky all day as a result,” Erica added, “Barely made it through dinner and he’s passed out on the couch now.” Stiles chuckled, “Aww, he wants to be a big kid.”   
   “Big kids don’t throw blocks at my head when I won’t re-read The Three Little Pigs for the billionth time,” Jackson sighed, sounding much more fond than annoyed.   
   “Its okay, Kira yelled at him and gave Jackson a My little pony sticker,” Danny assured them.   
   “He’s just mad Kira doesn’t have to take naps anymore,” Scott sighed, “Tell him that in the next couple of months he’ll be caught up to where she is.”   
   “I think he’s just agitated that you two aren’t here,” Boyd sighed, “He always gets grumpy when you guys go.”   
   “Well, assuming this turns out right, he won’t be anymore,” Stiles realized, “No more up and leaving for weeks without any notice. Dangerous missions, inability to plan anything to far ahead, we could be almost normal people.”   
If the huge mess wasn’t culminating in a most assuredly dangerous battle, Stiles would almost be excited for the possibility of a boring life.   
   “You guys don’t think,” Isaac hesitated, then continued on, “the alpha pack knows, or anything do you? That maybe that is what this is all about?”   
   “No, no, that’s impossible,” Stiles assured him, “The hunter never told the alpha pack about the kids, okay? I was there when they killed him, I know what he said and he never mentioned them.”   
   “Besides, they’re no threat to the alpha pack,” Lydia included, “even if they did know about them, I can’t see why they would care. It has to do with the threat that we as a pack, having seemingly discovered a way to get an upper hand over them, pose.”   
   “The kids are safe, nothing will happen to them,” Scott said with an intensity that was matched by everyone, “Tomorrow we will get as much information from the twins and the emissary about the whereabouts of Deucalion as possible, confirm with the Hales, and then continue with the plan that we will go to him. We will end this, for good. All right?”   
Everyone agreed.   
   “Before you go!” Danny said quickly, “Stiles, where did you stick the taco seasoning? I can’t find it anywhere.”   
   “It’s in the cabinet above the toaster, between the cereal and bread,” Stiles replied easily.   
   “Why would it go there?” Danny asked in confusion.   
   “Because that’s where it goes,” Stiles shrugged.   
   “Ok, we’ll call you guys tomorrow and tell you what we found out. Tell the kids we love them. Love you guys,” Scott said with a smile.   
   “Love you!” Stiles said loudly.   
After six different goodbyes, Scott ended the call, laying the phone on the coffee table and leaning back against the couch, putting an arm around Stiles.   
   “Do you think they’ll actually consider it?” Stiles asked quietly, staring at the phone.   
   “I hope so,” Scott replied, sighing into Stiles’ hair, “I guess it’s useless to ask you to reconsider.”   
   “As useless as me trying to convince you to leave,” Stiles agreed, snuggling down and resting his head on Scott’s shoulder. Scott sighed again, letting his head fall against the couch cushion and staring at the ceiling, “When did our lives get so complicated?”   
   “Right around the time I dragged you into the woods to find a body,” Stiles said, thinking back to their sophomore year. “Do you ever wish you weren’t bit?”   
Scott hesitated for a minute, then admitted, “I’ve wondered what it would be like. Graduating a human, going to college without having to juggle hunting down rouges, not having to fight and worry for our safety all the time.”   
Stiles sunk lower into his guilt at the confession, wishing that he could do something to go back and change his actions, rewrite history so they would never set foot in those woods.   
   “But then again,” Scott said, maybe smelling Stiles’ guilt, “I’d never have the family I do now, we all would’ve gone our separate ways immediately after graduating. I’d never have fallen in love with Isaac, never be as happy as I am now. God only knows what would have happened to him, or Liam and Kira. You probably would have started your plan to rule the world, leaving me in the dust.”   
Stiles chuckled into Scott’s chest, “I wouldn’t have left you, I’d make you my second in charge. Or no, I’d let the world think you were the one who controlled everything, so they’d be happy, and I’d have the power behind the screen.”   
   “I could see that,” Scott agreed, grinning, “After all, you are a Slytherin.”   
   “And you’re a loyal Hufflepuff,” Stiles said, fondly remembering the day they went on Pottermore, “match made in heaven.” Scott shook his head and laughed, “Let’s go to bed, I’m beat.”   
   “How are you tired already?” Stiles demanded, refusing to stop leaning on Scott as he tried to stand, ending up slumped on the couch where he was sitting, “You’ve slept twice as long as I have!”   
   “Let me rephrase, I’m going to take a shower, then call Isaac, okay?”   
   “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything about the smell,” Stiles teased, turning until he could lie completely on the couch, “Wake me when you’re done. I’ll take a bath while you two wax poetry about missing one another.”   
   “You’re just jealous!” Scott called, already down the hall.   
   “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Stiles muttered, knowing Scott would hear him.   
   He threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the unfamiliar room and let his mind wander from one thing to the next. For however long Stiles laid there drifting, he didn’t know, but eventually he ended up thinking about his parents.   
Stiles wondered what they would think of his life, if they were worried about him where they were now. If they’d been alive when all this happened would they have tried to keep him out of it? His father probably would have been terrified, knowing his son was mixed up in something that even being the Sheriff couldn’t protect him from. His mom might have tried to talk him out of it, as he remembered she did often when he was little, distracting him with something else until the problem went away. At least, she did until she was too weak to talk anymore. They would have tried, Stiles knew with a smile, but eventually he would have worn them down so he could help Scott, could go help save the day.   
   Stiles let himself imagine growing up with both his parents, a rare treat he only ever allowed himself occasionally, it being too painful to think about all the time. His dad would have taught him to drive, yelled at him whenever he found Stiles going through his police files, taught him to fire a gun. His mom would have taught him to cook, passing down their family recipes through example, taught him to speak polish, would have helped him through his sexuality crisis when he was seventeen.   
They would have loved Scott, practically adopted him as another son.   
Maybe, at some point, they would have given Stiles a sibling.   
   Stiles was shaken from his thoughts with a gentle arm on his shoulder, opening his eyes to find a pajama-clothed Scott standing above him, and discovering wetness at the edges of his eyes.   
   “Hey, I’m done,” Scott told him softly, not mentioning the tears.   
Stiles pulled himself up, sniffing once and wiping his eyes before looking up at Scott, “Yeah. Tomorrow, I think, before we go do everything, I’d like you to meet my parents.”   
Scott stood still for a moment, and then his features softened as he pulled Stiles up and wrapped his arms around him, “I’d love to.”   
   Stiles returned the hug with as much feeling, breathing in the smell of Scott deeply and sighing into his neck. After a moment, Stiles pulled away and was able to speak without the hitch in his voice, “Kay, I’m gonna go take a bath. You call Isaac and be adorable together.”   
Scott smiled, ruffling his hair lovingly before he sat himself down on the couch and grabbed the phone, dialing the number with ease.   
   The bathroom was nothing fancy, exactly what Stiles would expect a cottage’s bathroom would look like. At least it wasn’t as cramped as the one he grew up using in his grandfather’s house; you could wash your hands in the sink, aim for the toilet, and wash your leg in the tub all at the same time. And he did attempt once, when he was fifteen, spilling enough water on the floor that he slipped, nearly braining himself on the vanity.   
   The bathroom was humid, exactly what Stiles expects to happen after a werewolf takes a shower, seriously, he’s lucky at home they all split the bills, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to afford the water bill. The towels in the cabinets were fluffy and clean, smelling faintly of lavender, obviously not too musty for Scott’s nose to refuse to use them, judging by the two in the corner.   
Stiles quickly plugged the tub and messed with the knobs until he found the perfect temperature, letting the tub fill and dumping a bit of the body wash into the flow so that it would make suds.   
A bath is not a bath without bubbles, in Stiles’ opinion; it’s a tub with warm water.   
   Stiles easily undressed from what few clothes he was wearing, eagerly crawling into the tub and letting the hot water envelop him completely, resting his injured arm on the tub edge. The tub wasn’t massive, his feet touched the end and if he raised his legs, his knees would be sticking out of the water and over the rim, but he was thankful for it nonetheless after resigning himself to quick showers in a motel bathroom for the next week. When the water touched his ears he tried to use his feet to turn it off, failing and having to brave cold air to turn it off by hand.   
Afterward he sunk back down, sinking low enough that his ears were covered and closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax and float in the water, imagining that all of his aches and pains were draining away. By the time Stiles managed to actually clean himself, the water was barely warm anymore and his fingers and toes looked like raisins that had gone through the dehydration process at least five times.   
He towled off as best as he could in his sleepy state, leaving footprints on his way back to the bedroom and being pleasantly surprised that Scott had brought their bags into the bedroom at some point. He dug in his bag until he pulled out his favorite pajama bottoms, a soft pair of sweatpants, yanking them on and haphazardly making the bed, slipping into one side and burrowing deep into the covers.   
It wasn’t long until he felt Scott crawl into bed with him, snuggling under the covers and wrapping him in a warm embrace that allowed him to drift completely to a world where he never had to fight for his life or the lives of those he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos welcome!


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